


Winter flu

by idyllicstarker



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Established Relationship, M/M, Sick Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:00:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29353107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idyllicstarker/pseuds/idyllicstarker
Summary: When Peter gets sick, Tony looks after him.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Winter flu

**Author's Note:**

> Not suitable for those with emetophobia  
> It was originally posted to my tumblr [idyllicstarker](https://idyllicstarker.tumblr.com/) so if you'd like to check it out there, or any of my other uploads, feel free!

“How are you feeling?”

A gentle shake to his shoulder, had Peter opening his eyes just a crack – scarcely enough to make out the shaded figure of Tony crouched beside his bed. A hardened palm brushed comfortingly against his heated skin, not flinching away from the blanket of sweat that covered his partner’s skin.

A hoarse grunt sounded from Peter’s chapped lips. He could feel his own breath against his nose where he’d pushed his face against the pillow. The mist stung against the cuts in all kinds of crevices, a consequence of rubbing tissues against it every moment.

“I’ll take that as a not so good”, Tony continued after Peter’s lack of reply. His voice was soothing, and so, so warm. Just the right amount of love and gentleness to send Peter completely back to sleep.

Sleep.

Humming softly, the younger male allowed exhaustion to take control once again, forcing him to close his eyes, the heaviness of them not worth staring at his lover any longer.

There was a shift, the palm gone, the rustling of covers and then… cold.

“Tonnnnny”, he whined croakily, legs hitching in a reflex action, pulling up to his chest as if to try and hold any last remaining warmth to his torso. “I’m cold”, he mumbled, reaching blindly for the sheets that had just been stolen off him.

“You’ve got a fever love”, Tony sighed, his voice raised an octave from what Peter knew by now was worry. It was usually saved for times when Peter went missing on missions or suffered a particularly bad hit. But for now, it had taken only a winter flu to get it to appear.

Despite the trembling of the boy’s body, the heat radiating off him was unmissable. He was clad in only one of Tony’s old college sweaters and some boxer shorts which Tony swore was also his. But clothes, or lack of them, aside he was still a furnace to touch.

“But I’m cooold”, Peter repeated, sniffing the backlog of congestion at the back of his nose quite aggressively.

Tony watched the way the boys face grimaced, before swallowing hesitantly, knowing full well he’d just snorted it down his throat.

“You’re disgusting”, Tony muttered quietly.

“But you love me…”

“Debatable.”

Any other time and Peter may have put up a front at that, but with the little energy he had, he simply let out a small huff.

“Can I have my sheets back now”, he asked quietly, a note of innocence to his words.

“No, you’re burning up”, Tony said sternly. “FRI, what’s Pete’s temperature please?”

“103.4”

Tony let out a sharp breath, a hand reaching out to rest against Peter’s forehead which he eagerly nuzzled into.

“That’s not that bad”, Peter spoke, finally opening his eyes again so that he could reassure him that, really, he was fine. But Tony didn’t look so convinced. Concern was etched into his already tired features.

“You work too hard”, Peter mumbled, weakly lifting out an arm to grab onto Tony’s shoulder. He tried to grasp at it, but could do no more than brush his fingers across his shirtless form in an attempt to pull him forward.

The man didn’t seem impressed by Peter’s change in subject. “What does that have to do with your temperature?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It means get into bed and cuddle with me because you’re tired.. I’m tired.. boom! Cuddles”, Peter muttered. His tone was expressionless, usually a lot more dynamic but he was trying, he was trying so hard. A day of sickness, his body taking a turn for the worst in the morning, it now being nine at night. He was over it.

“Please…”, he whispered quietly after a moment, arm dropping back to the bed.

Tony sighed quietly, nodding his head. “Just let me go and get you some medicine”, he promised, standing up from where he was still crouched beside the bed.

Peter let out another grunt as his own reply - Tony concluded it sounded pleased.

Two spoonfuls of medicine later (Peter hadn’t put up a fight this time) and Tony was with Peter in the bed, holding the boy to his chest.

The introduction of body heat had seemed to get him to stop shaking, but of course, he was still hot to touch (metaphorically and physically).

Tony didn’t mind though, Peter seemed happier now, whilst asleep on his chest.

Pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead, Tony sighed, rubbing his back.

Hopefully when he woke up next, everything would be better.

***

‘Everything’ was wishful thinking.

Of course, Peter, upon waking in the middle of the night with an intense hit of nausea didn’t quite make it to the toilet in time. He’d swore all evening that he didn’t feel sick in that way, it was simply the cold, and the cough, and that was it, they hadn’t thought to get a bucket or anything.

Sitting up fast, he’d desperately tried to untangle himself from the sheets, but every sharp move only seemed to pull more with him, until he could do nothing but hunch over, and gag, throwing up seconds later.

A hand was on his back within seconds, rubbing it soothingly and whispering for him ‘to just let it at all out baby.’

The embarrassment was a lot.

He was hunched over, gasping for breath, vomit running down his t-shirt and pooling between his legs in the blanket. Tears rolled down his cheeks, only making the rough banging in his head more intense.

“Shush baby, it’s okay”, Tony soothed, looking over him gently. He didn’t seem mad. Of course he didn’t, patiently waiting for him to stop coughing.

“FRI, turn the lights on dim please”, he said, the lights slowly turning on until a buttery glow was cast over them.

Peter gurgled in response, shaking his head, face scrunched in discomfort. He didn’t need to verbalise anything before Tony was shushing him again, moving his hand to run through his hair instead, figuring the boy was done upchucking for now.

“I’ve seen you in worse states sweetheart”, he murmured, leaning over to the bedside table, grabbing some tissues from the box.

He gently wiped at the boy’s lips, smiling amused at the way he glared at him without really moving his head.

“You look utterly defeated.”

“Hmph..”

“You smell kinda gross too.”

“Hmph..”

“Not in a talkative mood?”

And there was the glare again.

Silence moved over them for a moment as Tony grabbed onto the hem of Peter’s shirt, fingertips gently trying to take it off his body. He felt Peter’s back muscles flex in an attempt to help with the process, but could do no more than that.

Tony didn’t complain, only pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, after he’d got it off his head, bunching it up and setting it down on the bed.

“FRI, temperature check?”

“101.2”

“Hmph..”

“Getting better”, Tony muttered.

Peter nodded in agreement, eyes already closing again in an attempt to just go back to sleep.

“You think you’re done?” Tony asked softly; wiping at Peter’s tears with the heels of his hands.

Peter shrugged. Not knowing what else to do.

“Okay, how’s your stomach feeling?”

Peter raised his hand to make a so-so gesture, looking over Tony with a guilty expression.

Tony nodded his head understandingly, leaning close to press a kiss to his nose.

Peter whined, knowing for sure his breath could not be the prettiest, leaning back, but Tony simply rolled his eyes.

“Come on, let’s get you in the bath”, he mumbled softly, tucking one arm under his knees and then the other around his waist, picking him up easily and carrying him to the bathroom.

***

“Aren’t you getting in with me?”, Peter asked sadly, looking up from where he was laid out in the bath, sunk in warm water.

Tony looked over from the doorframe, shaking his head. “I gotta go clean the bed up so you can get back in when you’re out”, he explained softly.

Peter’s nose wrinkled, titling his head against the side of the bathtub, letting out an exaggerated huff.

“What if I drown?”, he mumbled.

Tony laughed softly at that, shaking his head, “FRI, make sure Peter doesn’t drown”, he said, blowing the boy a kiss as he returned back to the bedroom.

***

Fresh sheets, clean body and teeth, and new clothes later, they were back in bed, a bucket on Peter’s side this time.

With Peter tucked under his chin, and even the boys arms now strong enough to wrap around Tony’s back, the only sounds that filled the room were Peter’s nasally breaths.

Tony’s lips gently pressed kisses to his head, Peter nuzzling closer.

“Thank you for looking after me”, a quiet voice sounded out.

Tony smiled, “Through sickness and health and all that my love. I’m always here for you..”, he said softly.

Peter laughed in a cracked manner.

“We’re not married”, he said bluntly, titling his head up to look up at him.

Tony hummed, angling his own down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Yet...”

“Yet?”,

“Yet.”

Content with the firmness in that exchange, Peter smiled tiredly, and nodded his head.

“Yet”, he finalised, letting out a small yawn as he moved to snuggle back against his chest.

“Goodnight Tones”, he whispered quietly.

“Goodnight sweetheart”, came the gentle reply.


End file.
